The Dark Beast
by Slothian
Summary: Oscar of Astora is saved by a very masculine girl calling herself Selena. She claims that she possesses the Dark Soul, which lets her break all rules of the game in her favor. Watch as the pair save the people of Lordran, to a rather anti-climactic point. Will include OscarXWitch, ArtoriasXDrkmn Knightess, and LaurentiusXHarem, because crack, crack, and I want him to get SOMETHING.
1. Oops, Broke the Asylum

**I own none of Dark Souls, or any of FromSoftware's works.**

 _Lordran. Loooordraaaan. 'Tis a very interesting place. It was once ruled by dragons- Wait, no it was made after the dragons came. Okay, so I think it goes: world is ruled by dragons in trees (By the way, why would anyone ever want there to be anything else? Seriously, TREES.), then zombies are set on fire and become Gods (Or witches. Or… skeleton… men?) and humans, and these fire zombies decide to attack the dragons because reasons, and then the age of flames and shit commences. But now it's subsiding, and flames are being replaced by the dark. Except the dark is a flame, so it's more like light is subsiding, and dark is arising._

 _Anyways, so fire zombies are turning back into regular zombies (who can't die), but apparently that's a bad thing. So now a chosen one comes to save the world. Or dance with a trident, which looks much more entertaining._

* * *

Oscar of Astora was in a heap of trouble. When he came to the Undead Asylum, he expected for there to be a number of able-bodied and willing individuals that wished to aid him in his quest to stop the Age of the Dark. However, the truth that he discovered horrified him.

Almost every single one of the inhabitants of the Asylum had already gone hollow, and there appeared to be only one exception in the entire complex.

Oscar was mortified. Back home, in Astora, the Undead curse was quite present, yes. However, for every 50 undead, there was only 1 hollow. Generally, the curse, while debilitating, was not necessarily a common thing to deal with. Even then, hollows were taken care of quite quickly; the royalty of Astora had made a very efficient system of slaying any hollows spotted. Mercenaries, _very_ good ones, were often hired to hastily cease the cadaver's functions. Common people did not have to deal with them.

Looking at the hollows made Oscar sick. There skin was red, as if the flesh were torn and ripped from their muscles, and they were so very thin. Oscar could barely stand the sight of seeing the dwellers of slums, those who looked like they were nothing but skin and bones. However, even they could not compare to hollows; it was as if- no, it _was_ looking at at half rotten corpses. None of this was what was worst about the hollows, however. No, the fear that drove Oscar was something that not even looking at one of Izalith's demons square in the face could ever compare to.

He feared their eyes. It was an unspeakably awful paradox. They were dead; the eyes were as corpses, empty. Hollow definitely suited these monsters, but that hollowness was somehow not alone. Somehow, there was something else in those eyes. It wasn't life, no… the hollowness had not gained life, but swallowed death. They were not evil, merely wrong. Morality, ethics, even instinct could not define them. They contained something that Gods, demons, the dead, and humans were not meant to fathom. He used to hear tales of Nito, First of the Dead. As a child, Oscar was terrified of the skeletal titan. Now? Oscar doubted he would even flinch at such a silly being. Oscar had lost his fear of death. The thought of hollowing devoured all other worries. Oscar prayed that if he were to ever go hollow, that someone would come and kill him quickly and brutally. He wanted no chance to come back.

A sudden noise alerted Oscar. He had been in contemplation for quite some time, and was ignorant of his surroundings. He noticed the sound coming from behind, and looked to the source. Oscar instantly regretted his thoughts of seeing a demon. Not that he was wrong, it was still better than a hollow's eyes. Still, looking straight at a demon's face was still not a pleasant sight.

His thoughts immediately screeched to a halt when he saw the monstrosity's club come crashing down. Oscar dodged to the right, feeling the roof quake with the force of the demon's club. His thoughts were swept back to his days as a squire, hearing discussion between a number of older knights, including his master.

 _"_ _Tell us, Charles. How did you defeat the behemoth?" His master had asked._

 _Charles roared in laughter, "Honestly, once I figured out the trick, it was easier than slayin' a damn deer! Ya see, thing is, big monsters, really big ones, they don't turn around so good. Once you get yourself right up in deir arses, dey have loads of trouble gettin' ya. By da end of it, ya'll almos' feel sorry for 'em!"_

Oscar returned back to the present. The club was coming for him again, but once again he dodged. Following Charles's advice, Oscar rushed straight to the demon's posterior. He saw why Charles was right rather quickly. The demon was having problems keeping up with Oscar, its rather short legs not allowing it to turn rather well. Oscar lodged himself onto the demon's rump and began slicing. Occasionally the demon would swipe at him, but he saw the body turn and dodged away, returning swiftly back into the attack.

That was until he stood back up and saw no sign of the demon. Oscar wondered and worried where it could have gone. His answer soon arrived when he heard some odd flapping from above. Oscar regretfully looked heavens-ward, seeing the monster falling right onto him. There was no time to dodge. This was it. He was going to die. His last thoughts would be, "Huh, that is quite the fine backside."

A least they would have been, if it weren't for the thundering blow that sent the demon speeding away. Out of nowhere, a red blur had crashed into the demon, yelling, "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! COULD YOU, FOR ONCE, ACTUALLY TAKE CARE OF THIS THING! THIS IS THE EIGHTH! GOD! DAMNED! TIME!"

Oscar couldn't tell what was louder, the voice or the cacophony that erupted when the blur hit the demon. One was like an eruption, the other was like a thunderclap. Either way, Oscar was astonished to see the demon go flying. The behemoth (or at least the remaining tenth of it) was sent flying past the horizon in a second.

Oscar looked to his savior, the hero who took out such a demon with a single strike, one who could likely defeat an ancient dragon if they wished to. He didn't know what he expecting (Yes, he did actually. A very fit Gwyn, scaled down to human size, in knight's armor.), but it certainly wasn't this. He was a child. If an adult, barely so. He was short too, standing at around 5'01". His clothes were also odd. He wore a red leather jacket, and it appeared he wore a woolen shirt under that. He also appeared to be wearing some odd blue trousers. His shows looked odd as well. The bottoms were completely white, and looked odd, like some sort of wax. Above that they were red, laced together in the middle by some red string.

The strangest thing about him was his facial appearance. He looked… masculine. That was the only way to describe it. It was as if someone had taken the gruffest parts of all of the gruffest knights in Astora and merged them together onto a single face. The angles were sharp, the structure made it look like he was frowning perpetually, and his jaw was fantastic in its shape. He remembered an old story about a hero from the future by the name of ash whose jaw was like some sort of hammer. Oscar looked at the hero and understood how such a comparison could ever be made between mallet and mandible.

Before he could say anything else, the hero through something at him. Catching it in midair, he examined the object to discover that it was a large iron ring. He gave an incredulous look to his savior, who offered an explanation that was both brief and unhelpful, "It'll make Blighttown much easier when you get there."

The hero then smashed his foot into the roof, and the surrounding area caved in. While at first Oscar though his savior a madman, his belief was thrashed away when they abruptly found footing. The upper floors of the Asylum had been a short distance below them, and Oscar saw that they were both astoundingly fine. Ahead of them was a hollow (thankfully looking away) standing behind a large iron ball, that Oscar questioned on how it got up this high, The hero struck the corpse with an open palm. The hollow was quickly embedded into the ferrous sphere, and both were sent flying away, destroying most of the architecture in their path. The hero began descending the stairs, with Oscar in hot pursuit.

Oscar, his curiosity dying to be quenched, finally spoke up, "So, might I ask what your name is?" They were passing through an iron doorway, at the bottom of the stairs, a bonfire in front of them. The hero's hand suddenly shot out and grasped Oscar's, who was too surprised to react. Without hesitation, the hero brought Oscar's hand to the hero's crotch. Oscar, at first, thought: A. "But I'm not gay!", B. "I do like an aggressive personality." and C. "Why is there no genitalia."

The hero spoke up, "My name is Selena. I don't know where I'm from, so it is just Selena. I am, in fact, female. The reason I grabbed your hand and made you feel my crotch is because 99% of the time, that is the only way anyone believes that I am not, in fact, male. Now if you'll excuse me, we need to get out of here." Selena rushed through a large set of double doors, into a large courtyard with a gaping whole at the bottom. The floor, and surrounding area, was covered in the blood and gore of another demon. Selena jumped over the whole and crashed through another set of doors, sending the massive pillars off their hinges.

Oscar followed after, sidestepping around the hole, casually walking through the open space that was once the exit doorway. Selena was waiting for him halfway up a relatively steep incline. He walked up to meet her, but right before he was standing face to face with Selena, he heard a rumble fro behind.

The asylum was collapsing. It appeared Selena had caused quite some damage to the infrastructure, and it could barely stand it anymore. The walls crumbled, the roof caved, and the entire complex devolved into disarray in a matter of seconds. Oscar looked back at Selena, who could tell, even with his helmet on, that he was equally confused and irritated. He asked in a voice mixing fear and exasperation, "How are you so strong?"

Selena sighed, "I have a limitless potential, so I can put as many souls into vitality, endurance, strength as I want. I also have a limitless number of souls and humanity at my disposal, which I'm hoping to use to save a few people. I have these things because I possess the completed Dark Soul. My name is Selena, but it turns out, in my past, I was once the Furtive Pigmy; progenitor of humanity. Now hurry up, we have to get a crow or a raven or something to carry us miles away to Lordran."

Oscar would have preferred staying with the hollows. They made sense.

 **This is my first work, so please, critique as much as possible.**


	2. Death to the Goat

**Once again, I do not own any of Dark Souls, or any other FS IP.**

Oscar was starting to hate the fact that he had met this individual that he would call a "hero". For one thing, she was not lying about the crow. When they reached the top of the incline, an aviary titan came to grasp them. Oscar was trapped in its grip, while Selena had taken a hold of one of its legs. Quite rightly so; there was no space left between the bird's talons for Selena to fit. Oscar only felt comfortable I such a position because it seemed better than grasping for dear life onto one of the crow's legs. Even then, it wasn't very comforting, only the slightest amount.

However, the crow was not the only thing on Oscar's mind. In fact, there were numerous thoughts plaguing the elite knight of Astora. Thoughts such as, "What is the Dark Soul? What is the Furtive Pygmy? How does this explain her strength? She looked scant over 16, how could she be the ancestor of all humans? If she serves the Dark, can she be trusted? What did she mean that this was the eighth time? Who or what was 'jesus fucking christ'?" The amount of inquiries that went through Oscar's mind were rather unsettling with how little time had been taken to form them.

Unfortunately, he wasn't really feeling like he should ask a number of questions. Mostly he felt like screaming for how high up they were. But mulling over Selena's identity helped him to keep a clear head, not panic, and not accidentally disturb the crow so that it would drop him to his certain death.

However, he came to a realization. He, Oscar, was an undead who had left the asylum. That meant that he very well could be the chosen undead meant to save the world from the curse of the darkness! He looked at his companion, another thought striking him. Was Selena an undead too? Might she be the chosen undead? She certainly seemed to be someone capable of enacting some ancient prophecy. Why did she save Oscar, though? How did she know about the crow? Perhaps she was an agent of the gods, sent to make sure he reached his destiny? Or perhaps she merely joined with Oscar to ride the coattails of his fame and glory. The knight had no idea. All he knew for certain was that Lordran would assuredly greet them with honors.

* * *

After some time (far too long in Oscar's opinion), the crow approached a mighty series of structures. Oscar could feel it, deep in his bones; this majesty, this radiance, this land was assuredly Lordran! As the two approached the walls of a vast city, the crow turned and swiftly dove towards a small circle of land that the two quickly dropped off at. Rather, Oscar was dropped, while Selena let go of the crow's leg.

Oscar was never really happy that he was undead. After all, seeing the hollows made him absolutely terrified of the inevitability that the undead suffered from. However, he could honestly say that he was a bit glad that his sense of pain was deadened. Otherwise, he would have likely screamed and cursed 'til the darkness took over from the landing. For his undead self, what should have been excruciating pain felt little more than an annoyance.

However, Oscar looked over at Selena and saw that the fall didn't even faze her. She was already on her feet, moving up a hill behind them. Oscar quickly got back up on his feet and tried to dash to her. It was a bit awkward at first, but his legs healed fast, so there was little problem. When he finally caught up to her, she was wrestling with two hollows. The first came at her only to have its head ripped off, the second met her and promptly began speeding down the steep cliff they all stood beside.

Before Selena headed back up the stairs, Oscar grabbed her hand, forcing her to stay still (if only for a moment.) She whipped her face straight towards his own and impatiently asked, "What is it? I'm in a bit of a rush."

Oscar opened his mouth to speak, but came to a rather silly conclusion. He had no idea what to ask her. There were too many questions, too many unanswered thoughts rumbling in his brain that couldn't do anything but think about how he was curious. What was he supposed to ask first? Why she saved him? To elaborate on the Dark Soul? How that was the eighth time? If she could be trusted? There were so many things that Oscar wanted to say that he couldn't say anything. So, he said the only thing he could think to say.

"So, with a face like that, I'm guessing no one's fucked you yet, huh?" Oscar asked, immediately regretting his decision and preparing to get struck in the face with the full force of a dozen Wrath of the Gods miracles. Wait, no, that was how hard a normal woman would strike him. This woman would hit him with more force than the Gods themselves could muster.

Selena shook her hood, and asked surprisingly calmly, "Not a one. Why is this so important that you have to hold me up when I have to do something important?" To Oscar's bafflement. Selena appeared to have a face that was in a constant state of terrible rage, yet her temperament was not as awful as Oscar had once expected.

Oscar, seizing the chance now that he could get some words out, sputtered, "S, Sorry. I was just trying to break the ice. Listen, might we return to the bonfire I saw us land near? I have many, many questions, and I would _very_ much enjoy it if you could at least answer a few."

Selena stared at him for a few seconds, then breathed quite heavily though her nose. Oscar took it that that was how she sighed. "Alright, I'll be there in a few minutes time, but right now I've got to save someone I'm not _too_ fond of, kill something really, _really_ frustrating, and save someone who I _am_ rather fond of. I want- no, _need_ to do those last two, at least. I promise your questions will be answered, just give me some time." Oscar hesitantly nodded, skulking back to Firelink Shrine. Selena headed up the stairs, not flinching as fire erupted around her with a firebomb's direct hit.

"This cycle will at least be a bit cathartic." She thought.

* * *

Selena was not in the best of moods. Not only had her plan to simply never decide between light and dark NOT succeeded (as it turned out, wait for enough years and dark takes over anyway), now that she finally saved Oscar, who had so far died seven different times against the Asylum Demon, he hadn't even thanked her for it. While she never really liked it when people thanked her for saving their lives, thinking that the act should be done without need for praise, she did come to expect that when she saved someones life, they would at least show some form of happiness or gratitude. Otherwise, they just seemed to be rude.

Selena was miffed alright. However, right now she had more important things to do, like throwing a rat against the metal doorway in the aqueduct leading to the Lower Undead Burg so hard that the rat could barely be identified as a rat anymore, and the door would be blown off of its hinges. Honestly, the fact that she could now grab things (an ability requiring a Dexterity level over 350) was astounding. Not as astounding as the stupidity that was the fact that grabbing things other than weapons required a high dexterity score, but the lack of ability made what was once a normal skill amazing.

It was also quite interesting how quickly she could move. When Endurance get to a high enough point, speed actually increased. Selena thought that she might be able to outrun the Bonewheels. The thought of those horrid, skeletal tires irritated Selena to no end. She thought they were bad in the first cycle. By the fifth cycle, rage could not even define what she felt for them. When she met them again, she would very much enjoy tearing them apart.

Selena shook her head. Now was not the time. She had already taken care of the assassins down below and the dogs near the stairs, so all that was left for her to do was enter the fog gate and kill That Fucker with the Two Dogs.

* * *

Melhaedus was an _insanely_ happy individual. He could not say he was a man anymore; he had risen to something so very far above. When that Bitch of Izalith and her daughters tried to recreate the first flame, they ultimately made something infinitely better. Melhaedus, in his life, was nothing more than a bum. He wasn't royalty, or pyromancer, or anything of amazing ability. He wasn't born to be great, so he decided not to be. All he did was go around, stealing food or money from the luckier born residents of Izalith. When he met someone of great luck, well, he "took care of them", so they couldn't press charges against him, and fed the scraps to his dogs. That was the only food the three mutts got; they'd only be fed when it was convenient for him.

In reality, he wanted to kill all the time. No one else was really all that important, so why not let him kill who he wanted to? He deserved it after the shite life he lived. So what if he had loving parents and siblings? So what if they always had food on the table? They couldn't kill if they wanted to. They didn't have power. Especially not after he slit all their throats. Of course, he knew not to kill _too_ much; if he did, he'd be caught, and the unfair system would sentence him for execution. It wasn't _fair_. He was sure at least some of the people he killed killed other people, so why couldn't he kill them?

However, one day, a miracle happened. A holy fire razed the awful city of Izalith, leaving behind only superior beings.

Melhaedus had been turned into something grand. His once fragile body was now brimming with powerful muscles. He carried around two great machetes, neither of which his human self could have likely held if he had used both hands, yet they felt like nothing to his current self. He could see the world so much better with his new eyes, all four of them. Nothing could kill them, a regular sword or club felt like they barely even scratched him.

However, some of the others who retained their consciousness after the metamorphosis resented their blessed forms, claiming that they wished to be human again, that the "demons" would harm everyone. They were soon silenced when he and his more simpleminded brethren purged them. Oh, how good it felt to kill.

After some time, he decided that it was time to leave Izalith, and… spread the word of his race's superiority, a message carried with blood. He has killed countless humans, feeding them to the three mutts still following him. They had proven useful; they made it so most adventurers were staggered as soon as they came to fight him, leaving him with an easy kill. By now, they had been mutated by all the humans they consumed, the dark humanity tainting their essence. They had become attached to Melhaedus, living as long as he did. Their teeth had become specifically designed to rip and tear through skin. Once, one of them stole his rightfully earned kill. He had been gracious, and let the other two tear it apart. Their anticipation was so great that they required his forceful goading to finally tear apart that annoyance. Honestly, he wished he knew of someway to further evolve using the power of the dark. Imagining the form he currently had mixed with that of one of Oolacile's endarkened residents from stories long ago made him shiver in joy. He would be like a god. By that point, he would dispose of all other threats; who would need rival angels such as he learning what they could do if they took control of the dark? Yes, after his ascension, the abyss and the bed of divinity would have to die, or pledge eternal servitude to him. Everyone else could just line and let him kill them. It's what he deserved. His joy would exceed insanity; it would reach enlightenment.

A smile broke out across Melhaedus' skull like face as he saw someone walk through the fog gate. He immediately went in for a leaping strike… only for the wind to be knocked out of him. He was thrown across the arena onto his back, the machetes being left where he once was. He tried to stand up, but a small hand pushed him down with surprising strength. Melhaedus watched as his assailants other hand raised up into the air, and started to appear like a silhouette. He knew as soon as he looked at it; that was humanity. That was darkness. This was some agent of the abyss, granting him the power he deserved.

The shadowed hand forced itself straight into his chest, where his heart used to be. Melhaedus closed his eyes. Yes, this feeling, it was indescribable. He felt the darkness spread throughout his body, the pure taint making him into something greater. After some time, the hand reached out, and Melhaedus looked at his knew form… and screamed in rage and fury.

He was no longer blessed. His holy form had been returned back into this horrible, weak state. Melhaedus tried to get up and attack the monster who took away his angelic power, but he was too weak to stand. However, he looked and saw that the mutts were standing behind the demon, looking on with absolute rage. Yes, that would do. While he couldn't do anything, those things could actually be of some worth and take on the abyss's agent. If they did so, maybe he could gain the power of the abyss instead, perhaps regaining his former blessing as well. His destiny was not forsaken yet.

The demon stood up, and… walked away. The dogs did nothing to stop him. Melhaedus cried out, incoherently, for the dogs to attack the demon. However, they did not heed his word. Instead, they followed the words of the demon, who merely said, "Treat him like everyone else who comes in here."

To Melhaedus' horror, the mutts began to approach him. He yelled, screamed, cried, anything to express how unfair this was, how he deserved better, how he should be allowed to kill, ho-

* * *

The deed was done. The dogs' curse was lifted. The monster, who had forced them to kill their mother, the monster, who forced them to eat humans of the darkness, the monster, who they had loyally served and hated, was dead. They turned around and followed after their savior, who they heard mumble to herself, "Seriously, fuck the Capra Demon."

 **So, what did you think? Hate the Capra Demon even more now? Want to guess how Selena turned him back into a human? Please leave a review if so.**


	3. Oscar's Revelations: In 3D!

**I do not own Dark Souls. Or Demon's Souls, or Bloodborne, not even Armored Core or King's Field.**

While Selena was busy dealing with the Lower Undead Burg, Oscar decided to speak with his new neighbors at the shrine. The results of his efforts were not as grand as he would have hoped.

The first person he spoke with was quite possibly the very definition of crestfallen. The Crestfallen Warrior, who refused to give his actual name, was sitting quite near the bonfire, in his usual sullen manner. Oscar rushed up and sat beside him, hoping to learn about the land they were staying in. "Hello there, good sir. Might I inquire as to why you are sitting here? There are a small gang of undead nearby, or rather, there were, until my associate took care of them. I'm amazed such a massive band of hollows could develop in Lordran, of all places! There were at least five!" Oscar said jovially, hoping to disguise his fear of the horde.

Oscar believed that he had tricked the Warrior, who began laughing, "Hah hah hah hah…" However, what the Warrior said next would haunt Oscar for years to come, "Are you daft? "Five" is a massive band of hollows? Listen here," The Crestfallen Warrior pointed past the aqueduct, straight at the city, "See that their? That there is the first stop that every so called "Chosen Undead" usually makes. More often than not, their last stop as well. Want to know how many hollows there are? By the last count, not including the ones your friend killed, there are at least fifty hollows in that area alone. That's just counting the ones that still act like soldiers, it might as well be twice that if you count the feral ones that just wildly swing away with their broken swords.

"Now, you might be a new arrival, but something you have to know is that, here in Lordran, almost everything is out to kill you. Down below, there's New Londo. It was a city of the undead. Now every single resident is a ghost, so in a way things haven't changed in the slightest! Look over there, in that direction? That's the path to the Catacombs, which leads to Nito's resting place, or at least it's rumored to. Considering the place is crowded with necromancers and walking skeletons, I've little to mind to question it! I've seen undead like you all the time; they believe the lies that Lordran is still fine. They think that the moment they, "as the chosen undead," escape from the asylum, they'll be greeted like kings. Want to know what actually happens? They die. And die.

"And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. And die. _**THEY! ALL! DIE! EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO COMES HERE WINDS UP DEAD, OR WORSE. SO I'LL LEAVE YOU WITH A BIT OF FRIENDLY ADVICE...**_ "

The Warrior leaned in close, until he was not even an inch away from the surface of Oscar's helm. He spoke in a whisper of the utmost despair.

"Prepare."

"To."

"Die."

"Otherwise, you're next death will be your last, and you will assuredly go Hollow. The only people around here who survive for very long are those who learn that death is going to happen. If you can't shake off death like any other inconvenience, then you will never be able to keep your sanity."

Oscar was afraid to ask the next question, but his mouth was so afraid that it ignored his mind.

"How have you come to learn this? What happened to make you this way?"

The Warrior spoke softly, with pain obvious in his eyes. His voice trembled as he spoke, "I came here with a group of fellow undead. Ten others, in fact. A warrior, a knight, a wanderer, a thief, a bandit, a hunter, a sorcerer, a pyromancer, a cleric, and one deprived of anything. By the time I rang the Bell of Awakening, every single one of them had gone Hollow. It wasn't my choice to learn how to deal with death, I learned through others' example. But through it all, I knew that if I could just ring the Bell, it would all be worth it. Our efforts would not be in vain." The Crestfallen Warrior began laughing so hard that it developed into sobs, "And what did I discover? What was the knowledge that the Bell of Awakening gave me? As it turns out, there are two bells! Isn't that fantastic!" By now, the Warrior was screaming, "All of that effort! All of my allies! Wasted! I couldn't find the second Bell, no matter how hard I looked! I eventually learned that it was probably in Blighttown below from some other "Chosen Undead" who arrived with different rumors, but I've no idea how to get there! The only consolation I could give to my friends is returning their bodies to the Undead Asylum, back where they still had hope! **Want to know why I'm so glum, why I act crestfallen, yet I don't do anything to improve my circumstances? Because I don't believe that I will be able to keep myself from going hollow if I see even the smallest hints of disappointment! AS LONG AS I DON'T CARE IF ANYONE LIVES OR DIES, AS LONG AS I NO LONGER ATTEMPT TO RING A BELL, AS LONG AS I DON'T MOVE FROM THIS VERY SPOT, I MIGHT STILL BE ABLE TO RETAIN WHAT IS LEFT OF MY HUMANITY! SO, WHEN PEOPLE LIKE YOU, WHO THINK THAT THIS WHOLE JOURNEY WILL LIKELY BE AS EASY AS JUST GOING OUT AND RINGING A BELL, WHO THINK WE STILL LIVE IN THE GLORY DAYS OF LORDRAN, BACK WHEN THE GODS STILL CARED, WHEN PEOPLE LIKE YOU COME AROUND, EXCUSE ME FOR GETTING ANGRY AND BITTER AND SARCASTIC, IT'S ALL THAT I CAN DO TO STOP MYSELF BREAKING DOWN! IT'S ALL THAT I** _ **CAN**_ **DO!** "

His voice returned back to its normal, crestfallen default, "It's all any of us can do in face of this plight. What _are_ we to do? Perhaps the age of dark should come; after all, aren't we just delaying the inevitable to make ourselves as miserable as possible? Some people keep telling me that the age of fire is ending, and this entire prophecy is meant to keep it going. Do you want to know what I think we should do? Let it end. Hasn't been that great for us."

Hours later, Oscar still sat in silence. He was horrified with the possibility that the Crestfallen Warrior was telling the truth. Lordran was in devastation? The age of fire might end? The chosen undead wasn't just chosen based off of getting out of the Asylum and escaping to Lordran? There was more than one Bell? No, this was too much. He could accept the latter two, but the first ones… If this were true, then this didn't just concern humanity, but all of those bestowed with the first flame's radiance. When people spoke of the Age of the Dark, they generally meant a time when all humans become hollows, but for there to be an actual end to the Age of Fire… If word of this got out, then every nation across the world would be in a panic. The Way of White might collapse, and that would not be a pretty sight.

Oscar wished that he could deny it, that he could mark off the Warrior's statements as mere ramblings, but it seemed to make too much sense. Why hadn't the Gods helped humanity end their plight? Why force an undead to end the curse? As well, the very reason why humans were going Hollow, might it be just a side effect of the ending Age of Fire? As well, he remembered how odd it seemed that Lordran had stopped sending out ambassadors; they were generally isolated, yes, but to not send out messengers to other nations in this most tragic time of crisis? It made sense. Oscar placed his face in his palms and wept. He didn't care if there were any onlookers, his world had been crushed.

After several minutes of mourning his view of reality, Oscar took off his helm to wipe his face, putting his helm back on immediately afterwards. Now was not the time to cry. Even if the Age of Fire was ending, even if Lordran was gone, even if he wasn't necessarily the chosen undead, none of that would stop him on his quest. He would keep the Age of Fire going, he would restore Lordran to its former glory, and he would _make_ himself the chosen undead. He swore, as an elite knight of Astora, that he would not let the Dark reign.

Speaking of the Dark, what was taking Selena so long?

* * *

"I keep telling you to put down the stick!" Selena yelled, standing in the space where a doorway had been.

"First of all, it's not a stick, it's a catalyst. Second of all, considering you just broke down that wall, I'm not so inclined to leave myself defenseless!" Griggs of Vinheim responded, regretting asking the individual to get him out of the house he was locked into.

Selena, no matter how much Griggs later claimed she did, did not growl at him, but she did say, "Even if it's a catalyst, it's still a stick. Just because it is one thing, doesn't mean it can't be another. A stick is not inherently non-magical. Also, you're a spy of Vinheim, I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be defenseless if your most obvious weapon is taken away. Otherwise, Vinheim is very bad at training spies."

Griggs grumbled back, "At least we know how to be quiet. Or is destroying entire streets and creating a painful orchestra of destruction considered art back where you're from?"

Selena did not want to say that some people back where she was from might actually consider that art.

This exchange between the two lasted much, much longer than it should have.

* * *

Oscar, rejuvenated from his own pep talk, decided to talk some more with the residents of the shrine. The next on his list was the cleric Petrus. Oscar needed to speak with someone who would raise his hopes a little after the disastrous conversation with the Crestfallen Warrior. Surely a member of the Way of White could lift his mood.

Hah. Hahae. Hahahae. ( **BTW, that is, in fact, I shit you not, actual Latin.** )

Oscar approached the cleric, offering his hand in greeting, "Hello, I am Oscar, knight of Astora. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." While he didn't necessarily believe that the cleric would take his hand, he assuredly though that the cleric would at least keep from backing away from a friendly approach. No such luck.

"Ah, hello. I am Petrus of Thorolund. I do not believe that we have business with one another, so I would prefer it if we not spend too much time together. As you can see, I am on an important mission." Oscar looked around, searching for this so called mission. Not seeing anything, he turned his helm back to Petrus and tilted his head, as if to say, "Wow. _Really_ important mission you got there. Standing around all day, not really doing anything. Mighty impressive."

Petrus, irritated by the Undead Knight's arrogance, spoke through gritted teeth, "I shall have you know, I await my companions, M'Lady Reah, youngest daughter of the good house of Thorolund, and her knights. We are tasked with a most important quest that I do not feel inclined to share the details of with the likes of _you_."

Oscar was starting to get annoyed with the cleric, and saw an opening to get the information Petrus seemed to want to keep secret. All Oscar had to do was seem dismissive. "Oh yes, of course, how could I forget. Back in Astora, everyone was talking about how the Way of White was sending out their best and brightest, Peter, Rey, and two random men pulled off the streets, on an epic journey that eclipsed even the Chosen Undead's legend! The fate of the Way of White, nay, the fate of the Gods themselves hangs in the balance of your ability to stand near a wall! If you do not, what hope does the world have with such an unoccupied space? Farewell, and may your destiny go down in legends even farther than that of Knight Artorias!"

By this point, Petrus' face had gone to some mixture of red and purple. He did not wish to reveal that the fate of the Gods might truly lie in the hands of him and his companions finding the Kindling, but he was very willing to put up a fight with the arrogant undead who would question a cleric of the Way of White. "Of course, my mission couldn't possibly compare to your own. I'm sure moping around all day, waiting for your little friend to return so you can reattach your manhood, and annoying the fellow residents of this overly crowded shrine all work towards some noble goal. Honestly, I doubt a demon would wish to get in the way of your journey with how necessary it seems!"

Though he wasn't sure if he would call Selena a friend, Oscar was mostly undaunted by Petrus' words. Oscar, thankfully, had years of training in resisting stings of snark. As the saying goes, "The knights of Astora fight more often with their wit amongst each-other than they do with their swords against their enemies." It would take a much deeper cut than that to cut down Oscar, who was an _elite_ knight. "Yes, yes, yes, all very important aspects of my goal. I seem to have been chosen by Gwyn himself enact such actions. However, considering you were selected to go on such a vital mission for the glorious Way of White, no doubt an entire council of Gods was needed to determine your excellence. Tell me, how was it to meet Gwynevere as she told you herself that you needed to save all the lands? After all, with this being a mission most important to the Way of White, wouldn't the Gods we praise decide to intervene to make sure it all goes over smoothly? Otherwise, well, I assume you've been making a fuss over nothing."

Petrus, who unfortunately had little experience with sarcasm (It was forbidden in the Church, as it was said to bring hubris) used against him (He himself was quite sarcastic, and didn't help prove otherwise that sarcasm led to hubris), was hit by these words like a dragon's tail. He began screaming, "I'll have you know, the Gods would likely directly intervene if they could to make sure this mission in carried out!"

Oscar crossed his arms and looked towards the heavens, "Is that a fact? Well, if you say so. I'm also assuming that Nito, as well, would likely make an alliance to help you carry out this urgent quest of yours?"

By now Petrus was screaming, "Wouldn't that be nice?! Then we wouldn't have to try to steal the Rite of Kindling from him, and I wouldn't have to work with that spoiled daughter of Thorolund!" A look of horror spread across Petrus' face as realized what he had just revealed. Oscar made a mental note, "If one wishes to get a rise out of Petrus, use sarcasm. He's so full of himself that the act generally causes him to lose all sense and reasoning."

Petrus gave Oscar a glare that told the knight all he needed to know about how Petrus felt about him, and thus Oscar backed away. He mulled over what the Rite of Kindling could be. He remembered what his old cleric tutor had once said (Back when he was being taught miracles before it was determined that he was far too little attuned to be useful in the field), concerning the bonfires, "Bonfires are the Gods' gift to the undead, and a way for humans to give their essence to the Gods by kindling the bonfires. Once, the Church possessed a Rite they used to give an exuberant amount of humanity to the Gods. However, when the schism occurred, and heretics claimed that all of the Lords should be praised equally, traitors to the Church brought the Rite to Nito and destroyed all copies. Unfortunately, the Rite has yet to be recovered, but thankfully Nito gave the traitors a fate that they deserved."

So that was what it was. Petrus and his cohorts were going to retrieve the Rite that allowed bonfires to be bolstered further than their regular maximum. Oscar then realized something. "Oh, I should probably refill my estus. Perhaps the one here has already been bolstered?" Oscar went and sat down at the bonfire of the Shrine, stretching out the flask, letting the emerald crystals bask in the warmth.

* * *

Selena screamed in frustration, "Why did everyone come back to life? Nobody here sat down at a bonfire!" The trio of the Pygmy, the Spy, and the Pyromancer, along with their canine friends, were progressing back up the stairs to leave the Depths when all of the enemies that Selena had disposed of returned to this mortal coil. Selena cursed, Griggs assumed Selena had led them into a trap, and Laurentius cried out in fear. Thankfully, Selena took care of most of the revived hollows without incident, and her two new canine allies had elected to guard her allies. To her dismay, the beings that were once the bane of her existence had decided that she was their new master. She hoped she could get them to attach to someone else. Not that she had a personal hatred of them, she just disliked having pets.

"Anyways back to the discussion at hand. I still think that, because a catalyst has a purpose, it cannot be reasonably be called a stick. We don't call clubs sticks, so why should we call a catalyst a stick? I think that something is a stick as long as it does not have an established purpose. Since this is used to utilize magic, I think it is reasonable to claim that it is not a stick." Griggs explained. He had decided to follow Selena, concluding that he was safer getting on her good side rather than being locked up in a house all his unlife, but the argument between the two had not died down. So when Selena rescued Laurentius, he agreed to be the judge between the two's sides.

Selena argued back, "But we don't just call any useless item a stick. If we see a rock nobody has a purpose for a stick. No, a stick is a pole, generally very thin, made of wood. It wouldn't be unreasonable to call a club a stick, and it wouldn't be unreasonable to call his catalyst a stick. People don't think of a stick as just a useless object, they think if it as a branch of wood. The shape and material are what matter, not the subjective purpose behind it."

Laurentius thought about this for a second, concluding, "While I do agree that I generally first think of the shape and material when I hear the word stick, I agree that a stick is something without a purpose. Saying that a catalyst is a stick is like saying my pyromancy flame is like a sun. Yes, the shape and material are similar, but the uses of them are entirely different. I'm sorry, Selena, but I agree with Griggs in this."

Selena sighed and nodded while Griggs put on an expression of triumph as they finally leaved the depths, before Selena smacked her hand across her face, creating a shock-wave that nearly took her companions off their feet. She asked, her hand covering her face, "Sorry, but I forgot someone else back in their. Mind if we go back? I promise it won't take long."

Griggs and Laurentius looked at one another, back at Selena, and reluctantly agreed. The five turned back and entered hell once again.

* * *

It was always an glorious sight. The unique way the flasks were made allowed them to capture the heat given off by bonfires, storing it as some ethereal like substance called estus, which appeared to be equal parts liquid and light. Merely pouring it over oneself, if they were undead, would bring a similar, though lessened effect, as that of the bonfire. Wounds would heal, and the body would be strengthened. Some thought that pouring it onto one's face was a bit odd, but they didn't know how amazing it felt.

Oscar noticed something odd. His flask felt heavy. Too heavy. Taking a look at it, he nearly squeed in delight. The Crestfallen Warrior, interested in what had gotten the new martyr so excited, questioned, "What is it? Have you never seen a bonfire before?" Oscar rushed over to the Warrior, presenting his flask.

"Why didn't you tell me that this bonfire was so strong? I've never seen a bonfire give off such pure heat to take a flask to this level!" The Warrior chuckled. Most undead reacted this way. The majority of bonfires around the world only gave around three doses of estus. Here in Lordran, every bonfire gave five estus at minimum. It took bonfires hundreds of humanities to get to a level where they could give out ten, so it must have seemed like a miracle. "I mean, this is at least twenty doses of estus! Lordran is much more amazing than I had thought!"

The Warrior stopped chuckling and looked the knight eye-to-eye, or as much as he could with the helm in the way. "What the blazes are you talking about? Your estimate is as far off as I can imagine. That's ten doses." Oscar shook his head, and presented his flask to the Warrior. Carefully taking the flask and examining the contents, the Crestfallen Warrior gasped in amazement.

The knight was right. The light shone with such purity, at least twice as pure as he had ever seen. Any undead worth his salt, and both the two were very worth their salt, could easily tell that the flask contained twenty doses. After an examination, it became obvious that the bonfire had grown an impressive amount.

That was impossible though. Bonfires could be established as divine landmarks if they possessed up to thirteen doses for estus. The most legendary bonfire of all time, located in the Holy Capitol of Carim, Gwynestead, only had sixteen doses. If word got out about this, a bonfire with twenty doses, any number of nations would send out armies to claim such a lovely flame.

But the Crestfallen Warrior had used the bonfire yesterday, and it only possessed a ten dosage yield. The only thing to happen since then was…

The Warrior looked up at the Elite Knight of Astora. Either Oscar, or his partner, had caused the bonfire to evolve to a state that was unparalleled in history. Now that the Crestfallen Warrior saw what had happened, the miracle that manifested itself with their arrival, he felt something he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. Hope.

"Gwynevere's Holy Tits," the Warrior thought to himself, "Better get some crackers to go with that cheese."

 **Whoop, third chapter done. I should probably explain some fanon that I created here.**

 **I've decided to make Carim not just a place where evil people come from, but also present it as a very religiously devout nation. Considering we got Lautrec, knight of Fina, Oswald, pardoner of Velka, and Eygon, who appears to be very devout for Firekeepers. Thus, they get the religious capitol of the Way of White.**

 **I've also made it so that bonfires are much harder to kindle for others. Otherwise, wouldn't everyone try to get all bonfires to ten at least?**

 **Please leave any questions in reviews. I _really_ want to hear anyone's thoughts or criticisms. **


	4. Arrival: The Arrival: Arriving

**Me not owning Dark Souls, or have once owning, or will owning likely.**

Oscar and the Crestfallen Warrior talked amongst themselves for a bit, both reaching the conclusion that this was quite possibly a sign of the Chosen Undead. The Warrior seemed to be in a mood that was downright only a little Crestfallen. He wasn't willing to try and get up and help the knight and his cohort, but the Warrior would share all he knew.

Oscar decided not to reveal this information to Petrus. After all, the man would likely claim the bonfire for the Way of White's exclusive access. Considering this seemed to be a central hub for all potential chosen undead to arrive at, that would not be good.

Oscar had tried speaking with Anastasia of Astora, but to no avail. The woman had her tongue cut out, but that wasn't all there was to her silence. It was likely that she had undergone some trauma that left her unwilling to speak with anyone, in fear of retaliation. Oscar knew little of what officially happened to Firekeepers in Astora, but he knew the culture surrounding them. They were often victims of harsh prejudice amongst the masses and the Astrian Church (History Lesson: Astora was once a series of semi-independent municipalities that was presided over by the city-state of Astria. King Oscar IV, who Oscar was named after, but not related to, ruthlessly took away the municipalities' independence and united them all under one nation. While the whole nation was renamed to Astora, the Church of Astora had been established in Astria, and thus was mostly separate from the municipalities, and so was called the Astrian Church before and after the unification.). The reasoning behind such accusations was both awful and illogical most of the time. The better cases generally had people assuming that Firekeepers were scandalous women who had been cursed by the Gods to serve the at their bonfire until the end of their sanity. The worst cases of prejudice generally involved the drowning, or, ironically, burning of Firekeepers, with the more ignorant (or more spiteful) individuals claiming that the Firekeepers were the cause of the Undead Curse, and thus should be purged.

None of this was officially allowed by either the crown of Astora or the Astrian Church, but that was the same thing for slaves. It wasn't allowed, but it was never reprimanded. Once Oscar had attempted to have a number of cleric's from his home town of Bollins tried for the drowning of a Firekeeper. Not only were they never tried, Oscar was almost demoted to a regular knight once again, rather than an elite knight.

The elite part of the title probably sounded like simple bragging to those unaware, but for those interested in Astoran politics, there was quite an important distinction. A regular knight was merely another member of Astora's military, and were paid like most servicemen, in coins. However, elite knights followed the old rules of the Astoran military. They were not just paid in coins, but in land, too. It was Oscar's wish to gain enough favor with his King, enough to convince him that Oscar should own the land on which Bollins resided. Then, Oscar could finally gain some sway in the politics of Astora and make sure that Bollins stayed morally just.

That all changed when he was revealed to be undead.

Oscar shook his head. He didn't want to think about that right now. He was in too good a mood to bring up a memory such as… that. In time. In time.

* * *

"So, should we or shouldn't we kill the Dragon? Considering we aren't gods, I'd say if we are to, then "we" should mean "Selena", seeing as how she is likely the only one here strong and crazy enough to attempt such an insane feat." Griggs said. Selena and her allies had met up with Domhnall of Zena, and the four plus the canines were currently discussing what to do about the Gaping Dragon.

Laurentius offered his opinion, "Do we need to do this? Selena, the way you describe it makes it sound like we'll be perfectly fine as long as we don't irritate it. Couldn't we simply leave without ever encountering the Dragon?" While he admitted that he was being cowardly, he wasn't exactly wrong. It didn't seem like they'd gain much from taking on the drake besides some souls, which Selena seemed to have plenty of, considering she had Laurentius bring his pyromancy flame up to its maximum potential.

Domhnall nodded in agreement, "Hmm… Normally I would say that I could use beast's hide to make armor, but from the way you describe it, I would not wish to use its form as a design for my craft. Besides, I am a man of peace. I do not want to enter into a senseless fight." Griggs shook his head.

"Normally I'd agree that it seems like too much trouble for something so unrewarding, but I have two reasons to agree with Selena." Griggs said, "The first is that, as a scholar of Vinheim, it is my sworn duty to try to dispose of an abomination of a dragon. The second is that I'm dearly hoping that it might greatly injure Selena in some way. Then I could at least know that _something_ could hurt her."

While the two seemed unconvinced, Selena added her own reasoning as to why she wanted the dragon dead, "Listen, from what I understand about this thing, all it wants to do, all the time, is eat. Considering it is the size of a dragon, and trust me when I say its mouth is almost big enough to eat another dragon whole, I'd have to say we'd save a number of later people trouble if we took care of it now. Besides, if you can get over the initial fear of seeing it, and are a safe distance away from it, then you'd very much enjoy to see it. Most people are.

"Besides, Griggs is right. I should be able to handle this on my own," Griggs smiled at the thought, until Selena added, "At melee range. You three should be able to hurl spells, pyromancies, and firebombs at him from a balcony above. You'll be safe, and I won't have to deal with this problem alone. Before you ask, I have plenty of black firebombs to spare."

While Domhnall was still reluctant, Laurentius nodded his head. Selena had saved him from the butchers, and the thought of the trouble that the Dragon could inflict now seemed like something they should try to stop.

Thus, the members went to their stations. Selena went to the bottom floor, while the rest went to the top balcony. Griggs had his catalyst out, Laurentius had a fireball ready to go, Domhnall already had a black firebomb in head, and the dogs just looked.

A loud rumbling was heard, and within seconds the Gaping Dragon had come out, in all its horrific glory. The three winced at its roar, and in that moment heard a loud snapping noise, and then a crash. When they opened their eyes, they saw that the maw was beginning to drop down the pit, as it had been separated and thrown with great force onto the wall opposite to them. Selena now stood before the gaping wound where the drake's waist and mouth connected, drenched in draconian blood.

Suddenly, laughter broke out between Laurentius and Domhnall, while Griggs awkwardly realized that a quite a bit of blood began flowing down under when he saw the Gaping Dragon's Gape. He swore he would never reveal that secret to anyone, and he would take it to his grave.

* * *

Oscar, who had been sitting next to the Warrior, noticed Petrus coming down the steps to the bonfire. The cleric gave a glare to Oscar, and said to the knight and the Warrior, "What I'm about to do is considered one of the Way of White's most guarded secrets. The only reason I'm doing this in front of you two is because neither of you are likely to meet anyone from the outside world. But remember this; if you tell this secret to anyone, be assured, you will be tried, found guilty of heresy, and executed by the Council of Saints. All records of you will be erased, and all your associates _will_ be found guilty of heresy by association. So it would be best if you do not reveal this to anyone."

While Oscar felt a bit chilled by the thought of how the Council of Saints, the leaders of the Way of White's ethics upholders, would execute an undead and make it meaningful, the Crestfallen Warrior simply laughed. Oscar couldn't tell if it was out of bitterness or disbelief.

Oscar turned his eyes to Petrus, and saw him take out three small things from his pocket. They appeared to be odd bulbs made of interconnecting twine. At one end they had a much smaller bulb, almost resembling a head on a very fat body. At the other, the twine all seemed to sway to one side, away from a point in the middle of the bulb where twine converged. Something was odd about it though. When Oscar stared deeply and intently at it, it almost… looked like him. He shook his head, thinking it was impossible.

Petrus stared intently at the first bulb, and it seemed to… look different. They shape hadn't changed at all, it just… brought to mind a different appearance than it gave. It put into Oscar's mind a young woman, feminine, to his relief, in the clothes of a priestess. When the image seemed its most solid, Petrus threw the bulb into the fire. He repeated the process for the next two bulbs, though the images were different for these. Both looked like clerics, men around the woman's age, but they weren't identical. One had blonde hair and a bright expression on his face, while the other wore a helm and looked… wrong, somehow. Like there was a problem with his jaw, or something.

After he threw the bulbs into the fire, Petrus backed away from the flames. The onlookers waited for a bit, when a light came from the bonfire suddenly. Oscar was blinded for a second, but when the light died down and his eyes readjusted, he was dumbfounded.

Where before the bonfire had been empty, now it had three new residents, all of which looked like one of the images from the bulbs. A priestess and two clerics. They all started standing up, but before Petrus could offer his greetings, the Crestfallen Warrior spoke up, "Well, that was quite surprising. I guess the Way of White doesn't exactly follow the whole, "Secrets kept are sins kept" philosophy they always spout on about."

The new arrivals turned to look at the secular pair, with Oscar giving a small wave and the Warrior laughing at his own joke. They then turned back to their fellow cohort and, in hushed whispers, Reah began to question why Petrus revealed the human effigy to two individuals unrelated to the Church. Assuming this was what they were discussing, Oscar spoke up, "That twine bulb wasn't the only secret the Cleric has revealed. He told me what your mission was. So, are you really-"

A new voice interrupted them, "-Searching for the Rite of Kindling. Yes, they are." Everyone turned to look at the newly arriving party of Selena, Griggs of Vinheim, Laurentius of the Great Swamp, and Domhnall of Zena, along with their canine companions.

Reah spoke up, asking, "How did you-", when she, as well, was interrupted by Selena, "Learn about your mission? I'll say the short version and tell you that Petrus told me. A different Petrus though. Well, the same one, but different. It's complicated.

"But that's not what matters right now. What matters is that I know that there is something that you all don't know that will keep you from failing your mission." By now everyone was starting to look confused, and the Crestfallen Warrior spoke up, "Well, now I'm invested. What is it that is so vital to their mission? They're just going down to the Catacombs and stealing the Rite from Nito. Such is what all the other clerics tried. So what is there to know."

Selena, with her crowd enraptured, spoke thus, "Well, that's the problem. Nito doesn't have the right. It was stolen by a necromancer by the name of Pinwheel." Everyone gave her skeptical looks. She knew they would. "Don't believe me? I have proof that I've used the Rite before. On that very bonfire, right there."

While the others looked at it with suspicion, Oscar and the Warrior glanced at each other. Both were alike in their thoughts. Could she have been the one…?

The clerics and priestess reached down and filled their flasks, to see that they were all filled to twenty dosages. Reports had said that it only filled to ten, and Petrus confirmed those reports. Meaning that what the man had said could very well be true. While they wished to cry out in amazement about the miracle amount of estus, the church-members stayed focused on their mission.

But Reah spoke up in hopeful curiosity, "Well then, could you give the right to us? If you have it, then that means that we can complete our mission right now. We are the rightful owners, after all." To their dismay and rage, Selena shook her head.

She began to say, "I don't-" Before the young blonde cleric began yelling at her, "How dare you! M'Lady has gone on this godsforsaken journey into Lordran, ready to find and fight Nito, the Gravelord, and you just ignore her distress? How dare you! What right do you have to not give it to her?"

"The right of me not currently having it. Pinwheel still has the Rite, I just got it eventually." The others stared at her in confusion, "So, you gave it back to him?" Oscar asked. Selena sighed, "Nope. Right now it never left his hands. I've yet to touch it technically." Oscar asked, "Then how did you use the Rite of Kindling… If you've never touched the Rite of Kindling."

Selena sighed through her nose and reached her hand to the middle of her chest, holding it out as if to catch water. Without warning, a shield appeared in her hand, which she tossed to Oscar. She did the same for a some armor to the Warrior, a talisman for Reah, different armor for Petrus, different armor for Laurentius, a helmet to Domhnall, and a hat to Griggs. Selena paraphrased some words that she had painfully come to understand.

"Time has been fucked right up the ass in Lordran."

 **So, that was chapter four. Any thoughts? Comments?**

 **For those wondering, there was some precedent for such a history in Astora. France originally was called Gaul, and so their church is the Gallican Church. Germany was originally a number of different lands that wasn't unified until the late 19th century. In old England, knights were given land by the lords they served. So while the history might be fake, it's not as if there was no reason behind it.**

 **The reason I made the whole bit about how Reah and her companions got into Lordran is because I never really understood how they _did_ arrive. It didn't seem like it was by crow, so how?**

 **I'm going to admit, I had forgotten about Domhnall when Selena told Oscar that she would be saving Griggs, killing the Capra Demon, and saving Laurentius.**

 **So next chapter will be when the characters are informed of the nature of the chosen undead, and where we are informed with them on how Selena's abilities work. Some of them, at least.**

 **If you wouldn't mind, I'd also like people to leave reviews saying whether they want the party to go to Izalith or the Catacombs next.**


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